was over to see his patients, and then returned again to London. But during this short visit he was utterly dumb on the subject of the heir. He called at Greshamsbury to see Lady Arabella, and was even questioned by the squire on the subject. But he obstinately refused to say more than that nothing certain could be known for yet a few days.
Immediately after his return, Frank saw Mary, and told her all that happened. 'I cannot understand my uncle,' said she, almost trembling as she stood close to him in her own drawing-room. 'He usually hates mysteries, and yet now he is so mysterious. He told me, Frank—that was after I had written that unfortunate letter—'
'Unfortunate, indeed! I wonder what you really thought of me when you were writing it?'
'If you had heard what your mother said, you would not be surprised. But, after that, uncle said—'
'Said what?'
'He seemed to think—I don't remember what it was he said. But he said, he hoped that things might yet turn out well; and then I was almost sorry that I had written the letter.'
'Of course you were sorry, and so you ought to have been. To say that you would never call me Frank again!'
'I didn't exactly say that.'
'I have told him I will wait a fortnight, and so I will. After that, I shall take the matter into my own hands.'
It may be well supposed that Lady Arabella was not well pleased to learn that Frank and Mary had been again together; and, in the agony of her spirit, she did say some ill-natured things before Augusta, who had now returned from Courcy Castle, as to the gross impropriety of Mary's conduct. But to Frank she said nothing.
Nor was there much said between Frank and Beatrice. If everything could really be settled at the end of that fortnight which was to witness the disclosure of the doctor's mystery, there would still be time to arrange that Mary should be at the wedding. 'It shall be settled then,' said he to himself; 'and if it be settled, my mother will hardly venture to exclude my affianced bride from the house.' It was now the beginning of August, and it wanted yet a month to the Oriel wedding.
But though he said nothing to his mother or to Beatrice, he did say much to his father. In the first place, he showed him Mary's letter. 'If your heart be not made of stone it will be softened by that,' he said. Mr. Gresham's heart was not of stone, and he did acknowledge that the latter was a very sweet letter. But we know how the drop of water hollows the stone.
